


The Ghosts of Regret

by JessicaMDawn



Series: The Law for the Wolves [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Ghosts, Haunting, Lydia saves the day, M/M, Monster of the Week, Stilinski Family Feels, Vengeful ghosts, banshee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pack is getting used to having a Monster of the Week, but nothing could prepare them to face off against their own pasts. Ghosts begin haunting the residents of Beacon Hills. Some are friendly. Most are not. Derek gets a once in a century moment when Paige shows up, while Scott and Allison must deal with the return of Allison's mom, and Isaac finds himself up against his worst fears. The resident expert on death will have to save the day, it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghosts of Regret

Loud music, the lyrics unintelligible, poured through the walls and shut windows of the house. The rest of the street was dark with the fallen night, only one or two lamps lit along the whole drive to show anyone was still awake. But a party was in full swing on the corner and cars lined the sidewalk in every direction.

With the opening of the door came louder music and cries of "No! Don't go!" and "Come on, we just got here!"

"We've been here three hours, Mandy," a tall female with close cropped brown hair called back, a smile in her voice. "I'll see you girls in the morning, if you're even awake then."

She shut the door to their moans of disappointment and took a moment to revel in the relatively quieter air outside. Instead of heading for a car, she began to walk down the street. Her eyes traveled to the moon, briefly, and wondered at the great fortune that Halloween would fall on a full moon. It was the perfect setting for a horror novel, and she loved horror novels.

When she brought her eyes to Earth again, her legs stuttered to a stop. Walking around the corner of another house was a young man in his early twenties with dark hair. But it couldn't be-

"Michael?"

The person didn't stop, disappearing around the house, but she was certain it was Michael. She ran to where she had seen him and searched everywhere in view, but whomever it had been was gone. The street was empty, the yards were empty, and every light but the street lights were off.

"Wake up, Christi," she berated herself. "You only had two beers and Michael died at the pool. You know that."

It was impossible to have seen Michael. She'd gone to Michael's funeral. But it had looked so much like him…

There was a splash, like someone diving into water, but Christi didn't know of anyone on this block owning a pool. Her heart rate sped up. Michael had been a lifeguard. His body had been found at the pool. Tomorrow was Halloween.

Was it possible she'd seen….a ghost?

"Go home, Christi," she whispered to herself.

She loved reading horror novels, but she definitely didn't want to become the heroine of one. With one last glance around, seeing no one, she turned around.

And ran directly into the wet form of Michael Weatherly. He stared at her with dark eyes. She watched as his hands came up to touch her shoulders, the grip cold and clammy. Shaking like a leaf, Christi took a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could.

…

…

The whistle blew and the entire lacrosse team put their hands on their knees to take a collective gasp of air before heading for the showers.

"So Halloween," Stiles said with more spirit than the rest of them felt. He'd been peppy for days on end now, since the Hale siblings came back, something not even he could explain. "Lydia's party tomorrow night is gonna be wicked, am I right? And this year? We're invited! No crashing it, no sneaking in, no watching the rest of the school drive by on their way to her house while I hand out candy to snot nosed brats. I've actually. Been. Invited."

Scott shook his head as he put his gear in his locker and pulled off his shirt. He made sure to keep his locker open so that the door stood straight out. Stiles put his hands on the edge of the door to talk around it.

"Aw, come on, Scott. You can't tell me you aren't excited. Last time we got invited to a Lydia party was out of pity."

"Last time we got invited to a Lydia party, the punch was spiked with wolfsbane and we all hallucinated," he reminded Stiles.

Danny opened his locker on Stiles' other side and pulled his own shirt off. He stood out from the locker as he removed his clothes, blocking Stiles' view of the locker room on that side. "Is that what happened?" he asked. "I didn't know wolfsbane effected humans."

Scott shrugged. "It happens."

"Huh. I'll have to check the punch before I drink anything," he said, holding his shirt up like he was inspecting all the grass stains. "That was not an experience I want to repeat."

Isaac slid into place, blocking Stiles' view of the locker room in the other direction. Now out of sight of the rest of the room, Stiles turned away to face his own locker and began changing his own clothes. The compass whirled gently in his chest and he glanced at it briefly, even though he didn't need to, to check that the rest of the pack was still as they'd been before practice started. All safe and sound on the home front, he deduced.

"I wonder if the Nemeton being awake is gonna effect Halloween this year," Isaac said, earning him curious glances from Danny and Scott. "Well, it's All Saints' Day, the Day of the Dead, or whatever. Isn't it a time when people think ghosts come back to earth and visit their families or whatever? And the costumes are to scare or trick death, or laugh in the face of it?"

For a few seconds, no one spoke. Stiles finished changing his shirt and Scott and Danny shut their lockers at the same moment.

"It's also Samhain," Stiles added while shucking his lacrosse pants, the boys on either side doing the same. "The beginning of the darker half of the year, a day when spirits and fairies can more easily come to earth," he listed almost lazily.

Isaac shook his head. "We've already dealt with fairies. I don't want to do that again."

Ignoring Danny's curious look, Stiles finished dressing and laughed. "Totally different kind of fairy, dude, but I understand. I'm impressed though. All that Day of the Dead talk. I thought I was the only one who knew about that, thanks to Deaton or whatever."

Before anyone could respond, Coach's whistle echoed around them and they all drew together to hear whatever announcement he wanted to make.

"Alright, listen up!" Finstock shouted once the team had gathered. "I know tomorrow is Halloween, and a Friday, and thank you whoever it was that put orange oreo cream in my favorite hat, that was hilarious," he said with a dead straight face, so no one dared laugh. "HOWEVER! If any one of you pubescent convicts ends up in the police station tomorrow, I don't care what it's for, you're off the team!"

"Guess I'm not seeing my dad tomorrow," Stiles muttered to the others with a smirk.

"BILINSKI! PAY ATTENTION!" Finstock yelled, making Stiles and the others jump in shock that he'd been paying attention. "Now I mean it!" Coach continued, pointing at everyone in the room. "You'll be kicked out. Banished. Forever. Even when you're sixty years old with Alzheimer's playing bingo with Suzie Q and the Beatles. That includes you, Greenberg! Do I make myself clear?!"

A quiet round of assent went around the room and Finstock looked proud of himself.

"Good. Now get the hell out of my locker room and get ready to enjoy yourselves, runts. It's Halloween!"

…

…

Disposable cups, plastic plates, and cutlery were only the first stop of many in Lydia's quest for party supplies. Decorations came later, once she was certain no one would shatter her family's good china. Four stores later, her car was stuffed with fake cobwebs, light fixtures, and other Halloween inspired (or could-be Halloween inspired with a little effort) decorations.

Her keys were in the ignition, her hand about to turn the car on, when everything about her froze. For a moment, it felt as if her body and her soul were two separate entities and she was desperately chilled. Then she felt fine, whole, warm in her lightly fur accented jacket.

Her body shaking, in a way that had nothing to do with cold, Lydia popped the door to her car open again and stepped out. That had never happened before, but she knew what it meant. Death was near.

"I don't want to go."

Lydia flipped around, searching high and low for the source of the words that had whispered fiercely in her ear. There was no one around her, though the lights of the stores kept the parking lot passably bright.

"Why me? Why'd they pick me? Why was it me?"

With every word the voice grew angrier, and then others joined it. Endless whispers and shouts, railing against injustice and foul play and how it wasn't their fault it wasn't it wasn't it wasn't!

"Stop," Lydia half whimpered, putting her hands over her ears. "I don't know what to do. Stop it."

The frantic tones stopped abruptly, and for a moment Lydia thought they were listening to her. Then someone screamed in fright nearby. Lydia didn't even pause to think before she was taking off at a dead run in her pumps for the source of the noise.

There was a movie theater that let out just around the corner from the line of shops where Lydia had been shopping. No crowds were milling about, so a movie had not just ended or started, but there was a couple outside that immediately caught Lydia's attention. One was a girl with long, wavy brown hair and the other was a girl with shoulder length, straight blonde hair. The blonde was stumbling backward while the brunette stood in front of her, facing a third entity. She thought 'entity' because even if it weren't for the bloody streak of carnage down the side of the face of the man standing before them, Lydia would've known it wasn't human.

A banshee senses death. This man wasn't dying, wasn't alive, wasn't tangibly there. She could sense it before she ever reached them.

"Get away from them!" Lydia yelled at the man as she came close.

The man turned wide, bewildered eyes on her but didn't move. Lydia didn't stop running, intending to shove the shade of a man away from the girls. Instead, she found herself moving through him. It wasn't quite like air, more like how she imagined it would feel to pass through thin jello. Still she passed through and he was no further from the girls than before.

"Oh my god," the brunette gasped out, her face going pale.

The blonde behind her grabbed the brunette's arm and pulled, weakly but desperately. "Caroline. Caroline. Caroline," she repeated, breathless with fear.

The ghost, for that's what he must be, stepped forward and grabbed Caroline by the shoulders. She screamed in pain, making the blonde scream in fear behind her. Lydia turned around and grabbed Caroline's arm as well, pulling with much more force than her blonde date had. Caroline was jerked free from the ghost's grip and both girls stumbled several feet to the side. Caroline then staggered and dropped to her knees. Her clothing was damaged where the man's hands had been, as if burned away.

"Get her out of here," Lydia ordered the blonde.

Openly weeping, the blonde nodded. She pulled Caroline to her feet and, repeatedly muttering "Caroline, oh my god. Come on," they hurried away as fast as they could.

Lydia turned to face the ghost again. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The man still wore a stunned expression, as if he couldn't believe anything that was happening. "Jack," he said quietly. "I'm so hot. It's so very very hot. Why is it hot?" He took a step forward, Lydia took a step back, and he winced. "My head was hurting, but it's not anymore."

"You're dead," Lydia said, trying to make the blunt statement not so harsh. "You shouldn't be here."

At her words, Jack's expression twisted into one of anger. "Dead? What about the other driver?" Lydia shook her head and he started to shake all over. "It was his fault! That sonofabitch was blabbering on and on on his phone! Why did I die and not him? Did I burn? I burned, didn't I? I know I did. I'll burn him too!"

He advanced on Lydia as if she were the man who led to his death. Lydia did the first thing to come to mind. She inhaled deeply, opened her mouth, and screamed. It rippled out from her, a banshee scream, and the ghost was forced away from her several feet. In the next moment, while Lydia was still screaming, Jack put his hands to his ears and dissolved into thin air.

She stopped screaming immediately. Taking several deep breaths, Lydia turned in a circle to check that the ghost was truly gone. She couldn't sense him anymore, nor anything else out of the ordinary. Pulling her phone from her purse, Lydia went to her recent calls list.

There was an answering click after only one ring. "Hey, Lydia. What's up? Need help with dec-"

"We have a big problem," Lydia interrupted her alpha. The seriousness of her voice stopped his words in an instant. Lydia felt cold all over again and shivered. There was no one around her but she swore she could hear whispers in the air once more. "A very big problem."

…

…

The hospital was only mildly more busy than usual when the sheriff walked through the doors, up to the nurse's station, and asked for Melissa McCall. As far as he was aware, there'd been no 'wild animal' attacks or other supernatural event – at least, Stiles hadn't told him about anything – and thus he couldn't think of what Melissa could need him to visit the hospital for.

Melissa caught his eye and waved him down a hallway. He thanked the nurse at the station before he left, and then they were walking down the halls until they found a spot where there was no foot traffic.

"So what's up?" the sheriff asked, sliding his hands into his pant pockets.

Melissa sighed. "I know the boys haven't said anything, but…I think something strange is happening again."

The sheriff tensed. "What kind of strange?" he asked.

Carved up bodies? Sacrifices? Dead bodies sprouting wings? Lizard people? Fairies? People randomly attacking each other? Zombie apocalypse?

Checking they were still alone, Melissa said, "We've had a few cases today where people have claimed they were attacked by…dead people. Or, people who are supposed to be dead," she reiterated.

"Zombies?" he asked, surprised. That had been a joke assumption in his head!

Melissa huffed out a breath and crossed her arms. "I don't know. We're still waiting on their tox screens to come back. They could all be taking some kind of drug since it's Halloween, but…I don't know. I thought you should know about it."

The sheriff nodded and removed one hand from his pocket to place it on her shoulder. As he did so, he glanced over Melissa's shoulder and saw a woman walking by the end of the hall. Her hair was shoulder length and a brown so dark it was nearly black. He only caught a split moment's glance at her profile, but something about her was familiar.

Shaking his head, the sheriff focused back on Melissa. "Thanks for telling me. I'll have my deputies on the lookout, for drug use and anyone playing Halloween pranks, or anything else odd."

With nothing more than his word to reassure her, Melissa already looked like a heavy weight had left her shoulders.

"And I'll tell Stiles too," he add, pulling his hand back as he took his phone from his pocket. "You know, just in case."

Melissa gave a laugh and then hid her smile behind a hand. "Sometimes I realize how strange we are – running to our children for help as often as they run to us."

The eldest Stilinski huffed out an amused breath as well, then gave a pensive frown. "At least they still come to us."

He'd seen too many families where any trust and communication between parent and child had long since disappeared. Stiles and Scott were into things a lot more dangerous than stealing and playing hookie, but at least they still spoke to their parents.

Melissa placed her hands over his around the cell phone and looked up into his concerned eyes. For a few moments they didn't speak, simply stared in commiseration over the oddness of their lives and the amazing qualities of their children. Then she cleared her throat and looked away, her cheeks lightly dusted with pink. She pat his hands once before pulling away and running them over her shirt lightly.

"Anyway. You have phone calls to make and I have patients to see," she said in a faux authoritative voice. Sheriff Stilinski had heard it many times when Scott or Stiles received discipline from Melissa either for something she secretly approved of or something that had caught her off guard only a moment before.

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

…

…

"Wouldn't be Halloween without something spooky," Stiles noted, though he sounded less enthusiastic than he had when talking about Lydia's party.

Scott resisted the urge to sigh. He'd been hoping for a normal holiday. "You're sure it was a ghost?" he asked Lydia.

She didn't roll her eyes at him, but it was a near thing. "Yes, Scott. I'm sure." Her hands came up to hold her arms in a mock hug. "I felt it before I saw it, and I moved right through him. He talked about how he died. And I know he's not the only one around. I keep hearing their voices. They're angry and confused."

Allison turned from the computer to face the others in Scott's bedroom. "According to the bestiary, ghosts are angry spirits who can't move on. They attack those that hurt them in life, or anyone who desecrates their burial site after they're gone."

Aiden let out an angry huff of breath. "So instead of enjoying a party, we're going to be dealing with mass murder. Awesome."

"Maybe the Nemeton's power brought back ghosts that aren't angry," Danny offered, though it was obvious he didn't believe it himself.

"And Peter was only planning a surprise party when he kidnapped Aiden," Derek quipped, arms crossed over his chest.

Stiles gave a shrug, looking guilty. "My dad already called to tell me people are showing up in the hospital after being attacked."

Scott glanced out the window. The sun was going down. Tomorrow they had to be at school while ghosts ran around town, hurting people. There was a decision to make and he, as the alpha, had to make it.

"Ethan, Aiden," he said, turning to the twins. They stood at attention like soldiers. "How are your grades in school?"

Looking nonplussed, Ethan answered, "Pretty good, I guess."

Scott nodded. "Okay. You two are going to drive around town. If you see a ghost, or someone getting attacked, or anything out of the ordinary, handle it. If you can't, text me and I'll leave school to come help you." He now focused on Lydia. "You can sense them, and you made one disappear. Do you think you can make them all leave?"

Lydia shrugged. "I'm not sure. I can try."

"I'll help her," Danny offered. When the others gave him questioning looks, he shrugged. "I have the second best grades of anyone in this room. I can afford to miss school."

Cora took a step forward to call attention to herself. "Derek and I don't go to school, so we'll help patrol the town as well."

"My dad'll help too," Allison added. "And when school gets out, we'll all be there to protect people."

It seemed the plan was made. Allison, Scott, Stiles, and Isaac would go to school. Derek, Cora, Aiden, and Ethan would patrol the town to protect people. Lydia and Danny would find a way to get rid of the ghosts once and for all.

Stiles raised his hand like he was in school. "I'll ask Deaton if they'll just go away on their own or if the Nemeton would keep them here," he offered.

Either Stiles was starting to like hanging out with Deaton or he'd become immune to the vet's odd behavior, like Scott had after he started working for him, because he didn't wince or backpedal when mentioning his mentor. Scott would bet on the latter.

Before leaving, Lydia made sure to look everyone in the eyes and say, "You're all still required to come to my party. I won't be left high and dry again." And there was threat enough in her tone to make them all agree on the spot, for fear of something worse than death happening to them.

…

…

He couldn't do it.

They were meant to be patrolling the town looking for ghosts, and they had been all morning. Derek and Cora had distracted a ghost long enough that its target got away without ever knowing something was wrong. They'd shepherded a group of elementary children on their way to school away from a side street where two ghosts had been lurking and arguing with each other with matching wounds in their chests. And then they'd seen Marcus.

Marcus was a werewolf they'd known as children, a friend of their mother's from a pack out east. His pack was killed by hunters after they lost their minds during a super moon and killed a family of innocents, but he escaped. He'd run to Talia for help and she'd tried to smooth things over with the hunters who followed after him, but he ran before the talks were finished and was killed as well.

Seeing Marcus, making him chase them out of town and away from the people of Beacon Hills, had changed everything. Marcus was a werewolf. The ghosts in town weren't just humans. That meant their family could appear as well.

Cora abandoned the city. She went straight to their old house, just in case someone was there. Derek didn't go with her.

"But Derek, mom and dad could be there. Aunt Isabella. Maddie and Gloria. Uncle Eli and Ruth." She swallowed thickly. "Laura."

He couldn't go with her. She didn't understand. He was the reason they'd died. He knew Kate actually lit the fire, that she was insane and would have found another way if necessary, but it hadn't been. Even indirectly, he'd led to his family's death. Derek couldn't see them without breaking. Especially Laura, killed by Peter, who had been his alpha for ten years and the only family he thought he'd had left.

He couldn't risk seeing them, couldn't risk them being vengeful and angry, attacking him.

So while Cora ran to the ruins of their house, Derek went back into town. Within ten minutes, he found himself in front of Beacon Hills High School without consciously planning to go there. Now that he'd arrived, however, it seemed there was nowhere else he could be.

Class was in session when he got inside, avoiding the front office by sneaking in through the gym entrance. He shut the door behind him as he entered the hallway and almost instantly, his senses were on alert.

Music.

Deep, vaguely squeaky on the high notes, resonating. A wand pulled over strings made this sound, and the body of the instrument would have to be large to get the depth of sound echoing to him through the empty hallway. It was a cello. Derek recognized the song. Something by Bach, if he remembered right.

He was nowhere near the music room.

The longer he walked and the closer he got to the music room, the louder the music got. His heart was pounding like he'd run a mile in a minute, his palms were damp with sweat, but Derek still pushed the door to the music room open and stepped inside.

The music didn't stop, but Derek could now see who was playing it. Long brown hair, soft face, and a mole just under her left eye. Paige Krasikeva was as lovely as she'd ever been. She wore the same clothes as the night she'd died – pinstripe overshirt, American flag t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. Unlike most of the ghosts he'd seen, Paige wasn't covered in blood the way she'd been when she died.

"Can you still play the triangle?"

Derek was knocked from his daze by her teasing voice. "What?"

Without looking up at him, her eyes still down as if reading music, she said, "When we first met, you played the triangle for me. I just wondered if you remembered."

"Of course I remember," Derek assured her. He wasn't sure if talking to a ghost was okay to do or not, or if she was about to attack him depending on his answers, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut. "I remember everything about you."

Paige's lips quirked up in a smile she tried to hide by lowering her head even further. Derek heard several pairs of feet rushing down the hall, though not enough for class to be over, and a moment later Stiles crashed into the door frame while careening into the room, followed shortly by Scott, Allison, and Isaac.

"What are you doing here, Dere-," he stopped short, seeing Paige.

For some reason, Derek felt the need to explain himself, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. "Stiles. I was just-"

The music stopped abruptly and when Derek looked back at Paige, the cello was gone. She lifted her gaze to Derek's.

"You've aged well," she said with a tiny smile. "Much better than the star athlete I dated in high school."

"Paige," Scott whispered, either out of surprise or to inform the others. Derek didn't know how he knew who Paige was and didn't care. His eyes were stuck on the girl he'd loved as a teen.

Her smile turning sad, Paige continued, "I wish I could've gotten older too. Could've become a better version of myself. But I suppose life doesn't always work out the way we think it will, huh?"

"No," he breathed out. "Paige, I'm so sorry."

Paige stood up from her chair and everyone tensed, prepared for an attack. She walked slowly closer to them, to Derek, and the tension in the room built with every step. Paige stopped within arm's reach of Derek and lifted her hands to touch his cheeks. He expected it to hurt, but it didn't. It didn't feel like anything. Lydia had said it felt like jello, like cold, but Derek felt nothing at all. The proof that Paige wasn't really there made his chest ache like he'd just lost her all over again.

"You did everything you could, Derek," she said quietly, eyes searching his face. "It wasn't your fault."

"But I knew," Derek murmured. "My uncle told me there would be an alpha at the school, and all I had to do was get you there. I wanted you to get the bite. I wanted you to be like me," he revealed.

Paige's eyes hardened and Derek braced himself for her touch to turn painful. Instead, she pulled her hands away and glanced behind him at the others. Stiles was in front with Scott right behind, Allison and Isaac peeking over their shoulders. There was a warmth on his shoulder and Derek recognized it as Stiles' hand, giving him a support he didn't feel he deserved.

"They aren't like you," Paige said quietly, nodding to Allison and Stiles. She stared at the hand on Derek's shoulder. "Why not have them bitten too?"

"Because they don't want it," Derek answered smoothly. "I've learned better. I've lost too much not to be careful."

Nodding, Paige looked back up at Derek. "You have good friends, Derek. I'm glad." She focused on his chest. "The truth is…I already knew."

"You did?" Derek asked with a slight flinch.

Another nod. She wore a bitter smile. "After I died…I somehow just knew. A perk of being dead, I suppose, understanding." A shake of the head removed the bitterness from her. "I also know how much you were hurting, how much you've been hurting since."

"I loved you," Derek said in explanation. "I loved you and I got you killed. I killed you."

Paige shook her head once again and met his gaze. "I loved you too. You tried to save me, Derek. And when I asked you to end it, you did. I'm grateful for that. So I want you to know that you don't have to be afraid. You've got someone who won't hurt you. Someone who will support you and make you want to be better more than I ever could. Someone who reminds you that, werewolf or not, you're still human. You're not the monster you think you are."

Stiles' hand on his shoulder was like a brand. Derek almost wanted to push it away, but couldn't make himself do it. Every time Derek had thought he found love, it backfired, and having that talked about with the others in the room made him uncomfortable. But Paige was saying he would still find someone. No, she was telling him he already had.

"How do you know it won't turn out wrong again?" he managed to ask.

Paige touched her forehead. "I told you. Understanding is one of the perks of being dead." She smiled. "Be happy, Derek. You deserve it. Stop living in everyone else's pasts and look toward your own future. It's a good one."

And from one blink to another, she was gone. The music room was empty but for the McCall pack members.

Stiles gave his shoulder one last squeeze before releasing. Derek turned around to face his pack and gauge their reactions to what they'd seen.

Scott looked heartbroken, Allison sad but hopeful, and Isaac was confused but empathizing with what he'd heard. Stiles wore understanding like a solemn badge and Derek wanted to know what Stiles was thinking in that moment. He opened his mouth to ask but what came out instead was,

"How did you all know I was here?"

Isaac waved at Stiles. "Duh."

Oh right. The compass.

"But don't you have class?"

"It's lunch," Scott revealed with a shrug. "Derek. What just happened…"

Derek closed his eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it." He opened his eyes and fixed a pleading stare on Scott. "Please."

"I'm confused," Isaac pointed out. "Who was tha-ow!" he yelped when Stiles reached back and smacked him on the arm.

Stiles frowned at him. "You'll learn about it when you're older," he said like a stern parent. Allison almost laughed but covered her mouth to stop herself.

Isaac glared. "You're not my dad," he said.

"I sure as hell hope not," Stiles shot back. "No offense to the dead or anything, but your dad was an ass."

"Stiles, you're an ass," Derek added, already feeling lighter as the conversation turned from him.

Stiles' mouth dropped open, his eyes wide, and generally looked like he'd been struck.

Scott jumped to his defense. "But not that kind of an ass! Obviously," he added in a reproachful tone, looking at Derek as if to say 'this is all your fault.' "You're the fun kind of ass." Then he blushed at his own words.

For his part, Stiles looked touched and put a hand over his heart. "Scott. That was beautiful." He grinned. "You sure you don't wanna make out?"

Allison punched him in the arm, making him stagger, and Isaac laughed. Then suddenly the school bell was ringing, making them all jump, including Derek.

"You okay, dude?" Scott asked.

Derek nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine. I'm just gonna check out the school for more ghosts and then head out again."

Scott nodded and pat Derek on the arm before they all began to leave. Stiles hesitated at the door, fiddling with the bottom of his green and white checkered over shirt.

"I'm glad," he said after a moment, when noise from people switching classes had begun to drift over them. "That she didn't blame you for her death. That she wasn't angry." He clenched his shirt in his fist and glared at the doorframe. "The other ghosts are….I just-"

He stalled out then, not moving a muscle. Derek took a step toward him, which seemed to snap the younger male out of it. "Stiles?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind. I gotta get to class," he said with a wave down the hall. Students were passing the music room door now. "Be careful."

And then Derek was alone. He quickly snuck out of the school again before people could start showing up for band class and find him lurking in there. But even as he left, even as he scented the air and searched for ghosts, Derek wondered what Stiles had meant to say. He'd been talking about Paige and Derek, but it had almost felt like he meant something else as well. He'd smelled hopeless and his heart had been rabbiting in his chest.

Derek sighed, knowing that wondering about it was going to preoccupy him for the rest of the day.

…

…

In the afternoon sunlight, Scott's motorcycle moved smoothly down streets, taking turns at a rather sedate pace, for a motorcycle. If asked, Scott would say it was because he was on the lookout for ghosts, and he was. But his mind was also preoccupied and going fast might make him crash. Crashing wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt like hell.

Paige. She was different than how he'd imagined her with Gerard's story. She was smaller, for one thing. Scott looked at her and wanted to protect her, but got the impression she wouldn't let him if he tried. She was like Allison in that way.

If Allison hadn't been a hunter, would Scott have let Peter or Derek bite her to try and turn her? Would he have repeated Derek's mistake as a teenager? What did Allison think about this? They'd talked about what her uncle had told them, had decided that probably half of it was nothing but lies. Paige, and Derek killing her, turned out to be part of the true half. But Paige had thanked him for it. She'd been bitten, partly because of Derek himself, and she'd died. Scott wasn't sure Allison's ghost would've been so forgiving if their places had been switched.

Imagining a vindictive ghost made an image of Stiles pop in his head, ghostly pale and half see through, laughing like an 80s movie villain as he cast wards and threw magic ghostly ash and plant bits at people to trap them in inconvenient places.

Scott chuckled softly to himself, hot air brushing back against him under his helmet. It was funny to picture, but would probably be terrifying in real life. _'Don't get on his bad side,'_ Scott thought with humor.

He turned a corner and a woman stood in front of him in the street. Scott flipped the bike in an effort to stop it, causing it to slide along the asphalt on its side and dragging him with it, but it was too late. She was too close. However, the moment he was meant to hit her, he just kept going. Scott and his bike slid through the woman without a breath of cold air or tingling sensation to show for it.

The bike ended up on the road on its side while Scott laid on his back, groaning at the minor road burn he could feel on his legs and back. He looked up when the ghost woman began walking toward him.

"No way," he breathed out.

Upside down in his vision though she was, Scott was one hundred percent sure of who he was seeing. Vibrant red hair that was short on the sides but longer on top. Stern face. Long neck. Square jaw. Arched eyebrows. Her face twisted in anger, Victoria Argent was a terrifying sight.

"Hello, Scott," Victoria greeted, her voice sweet. It was so at odds with her livid expression that it took Scott a moment to realize it was the ghost who had spoken. "Imagine the odds. Us meeting again."

Scott scrambled to his feet before she could reach him. It hadn't hurt to go through her, but he was ninety-nine percent sure she would cause him unbelievable pain if she touched him willingly.

"Mrs. Argent," he stuttered out, holding out his hands. "I know you don't like me, but-"

"Don't like you?" she asked, looking confused for a moment. "It's not that I don't like you. It's that I absolutely abhor you!"

She was on him in an instant, her hands coming up around his throat as if to try and suffocate him for the second time in his life. Scott screamed. He couldn't help it. Her touch burned like too cold ice. He gave in to the beta shift and shoved his hands forward. To his surprise, and Victoria's it seemed, she stumbled back.

Gasping and gingerly touching his aching throat, Scott took a step away. "Mrs. Argent-" he tried.

"You monster," she spat out. Victoria stood tall, her posture perfect, not a ghostly hair out of place or wrinkle in her clothes. "You dare to strike me. You're no better than a wild animal. A rabid dog that should be put to sleep. It's beasts like you that killed me."

Scott shook his head. "I didn't kill you," he stated. She'd died after trying to kill him, but he hadn't killed her.

Victoria spat, though no liquid hit the ground. "You think I don't know that? No, it was another were that got me. That cur who called himself an alpha. Do you think that makes it better? Your kind are a disease. It makes me sick to see my daughter with you, clinging to your arm like some pitiful medal at a dog show. And my husband," she hissed the word like a curse, "the judge of the show. Checking your bones and your balls and deeming you worthy. Abominable."

"Victoria!"

"Mom!"

It was only then that Scott became aware of the car that had pulled to a stop at the corner, its taillights flashing once before going dim with the silence of the engine. Allison was already running around the back of the car to reach her mother and Scott, and Chris was only a moment behind her from needing to turn off the car first.

Victoria did not look pleased to see them.

"How wonderful to see you two again," she snipped, disappointment and disgust in her every word.

Both living Argents stopped short, taken aback at her tone and stance. Chris let his eyes trail from Victoria for a brief moment and looked Scott over. His eyes lingered on Scott's neck and Scott knew he was taking in the ice burns.

"Victoria," he said again, returning his attention to his diseased wife. "Honey, you can't be here."

Victoria huffed. "And why not? The murdered and the accident prone are allowed to roam the earth but I can't?"

Chris frowned. There was pain in his voice when he spoke. "None of you should be here. You died. We lost you. Nothing can bring you back. Not the way you were. This is wrong, Victoria."

"Wrong." And suddenly Victoria was so close to her husband that he would've felt her breath on his face had she been alive. "What is wrong is that you continue to allow our daughter to sully herself, to denigrate and poison herself with every touch of that beast's hands. How could you throw away everything we worked for, everything your sister and your father and our entire family worked for?!"

Chris bore his wife's screaming with barely a twitch in his whole body. A great respect for him built up in Scott's chest. If it had been his mother, or Allison, screaming at him that way, Scott could not have stood so resiliently.

Closing his eyes only for a second, Chris said, "Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent. We hunt those who hunt us." Then he locked eyes with his wife, who looked confused at his words. His voice was hard as he continued. "We hunt those who hunt us, Victoria. That was the code. What Kate did, what my father did, what you did," his voice cracked and his eyes softened with pain, "that wasn't the code. That was hatred. Pure, unchecked hatred, for people who can't help the way they were born, or the way they were changed. For people who have done nothing wrong." He shook his head once but never removed his eyes from Victoria's. "You created monsters in order to hunt them. Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent. I hate that you died, Tori. I miss you all the time, every day. I loved you so much. But you broke the Code, and it cost you your life."

A tear slid down his face but he kept a strong stance, held the ghost's burning eyes, did not move away from a touch that could kill him.

For a long time, no one said anything. Scott's wounds from crashing his bike and from Victoria's hands healed. The Argent parents stared at each other while their daughter stood to the side looking helpless and hating it. Finally, Victoria frowned and took a step away from her husband.

"The Code didn't kill me, dearest. A werewolf did. And yet you let him walk around, free to kill others. That is against the Code," she said smoothly.

"Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes." All eyes turned to Allison, who stood up straighter under the observation. "They are people. Even the supernatural creatures are people. If they've done wrong, we stop them. If not, if they themselves are in danger of dying and they cannot stop it…We will protect them. Even from our own families."

Her voice was strong but brittle. She hated the idea of angering her mother, of letting her down. If she had glanced at her father, or at Scott, perhaps she would not have been so tense. Both of them wore expressions of such pride that she could not have felt insecure about her words.

"One day, that sentimentality of yours will cost you _your_ life."

And with those scathing words, Victoria Argent vanished into thin air. Chris Argent took a deep breath.

"Are you alright, Scott?" he asked once he'd let that breath go.

Scott did a quick inventory of himself. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?" And he didn't mean physically. That last statement from Victoria had been like disowning them, wishing them harm. Scott couldn't imagine hearing it from someone you loved and lost.

Instead of answering, Chris looked at his daughter. Allison let out a shaky breath and shook her head. Her expression was determined. "We'll be alright. We have to keep an eye out for her around town though. She might hurt someone," she ended as both Argents glanced at Scott.

He nodded. "I'll help you."

…

…

All he knew was it was a male ghost leaving gashes on the arms of a dark haired young teen. Isaac roared to get the man's attention while Stiles slipped around the side and pulled the kid to safety and out of sight of anything supernatural that might happen from then on.

The only problem was that as soon as he had the ghost's attention, Isaac couldn't do anything else.

There were slashes up the entire torso of the ghost. His clothes were damp. His glasses had one cracked lens. Still, Isaac could never forget the face of the man who had locked him in a freezer in the basement of their house.

"Dad?" Isaac choked out. "Wh-what are you…doing?"

Mr. Lahey looked happy to see his son. "Isaac. I've been looking for you all over the place. I was looking for you last night, but I found this…thing instead. I think it cut me."

There were apartment buildings all around them but no people. Everyone was either inside prepping for Halloween night or already at their spooky festivities. Isaac was glad for the solitude.

He swallowed twice before he could speak around the sudden lump in his throat. "You, uh…Yeah. Yeah it cut you." He motioned to his dad's chest.

The ghost of his father looked down and saw the large gashes. He let out a shocked 'oh.' He stared at his own chest, poking at the flesh that wasn't really there, for several long seconds.

Isaac glanced around. He didn't see where Stiles had taken the teen, there were too many corners and alleys in the area, and he couldn't focus his senses enough to scent it out at the moment. No matter where they were, at least they were out of danger. "Dad?" Isaac tried, focusing on his father again.

Mr. Lahey chuckled. "This is funny. This is really funny." He raised his eyes from his chest. "I felt bad that night. I went looking for you. And it got me instead. Would it have killed you if I hadn't left the house? Would it be you standing here looking at your own bloody chest if I'd let you run off?"

Shrugging helplessly, Isaac said, "I-I don't know, I think it was-"

"Stop being so indecisive, Isaac," his father admonished, flinging his hand out.

Isaac yelled as a cut opened on his shoulder. It had felt like a blade, though his father's hands were empty and never touched him. He stumbled back and clapped a hand over his shoulder wound, staring at his father with wide eyes.

He was nine years old again, crying as his father shut the freezer door for the first time, asking again and again 'Why?' and yelling 'Daddy, I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry!' through the box as he tried to escape. The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, and Isaac couldn't move to stop a second slash that caused his arm to bleed further down as well, though it caused him to cry out in pain.

"Isaac!"

Stiles' voice jolted him from memories of a dark, small space and Isaac dodged away from an attack that would've put a wound in his chest. As soon as Isaac was out of the way, Stiles threw a bundle of burning white sage toward Mr. Lahey. As it passed through him, Mr. Lahey let out a terrible scream and stumbled back and away from the herbs.

"Get away from him," Stiles ordered firmly. "Heck. Get away from Beacon Hills. Go back to wherever you came from. Isaac isn't your plaything anymore."

Mr. Lahey's mouth formed a solemn line, his eyes full of regret. Then, with a nod and a deep breath, he fizzled away. It wasn't a sudden disappearance, like what Scott and Lydia had described or how Paige vanished, but a gradual one. Both boys blinked at the space he'd been in.

"Did you just exorcise him?" Isaac asked while the wounds on his arm healed quickly.

Stiles nodded slowly. "I…I think I did. Wow. This stuff actually works," he noted with surprise, picking the still smoking sage off the ground.

Isaac lifted an eyebrow at him. "You didn't think it would? I thought your emissary powers only worked if you believed in it."

"They do. And I did. But proof is always nice," Stiles commented with a shrug. Sirens sounded in the distance. "Oh. We'd better get out of here. I called 911 for the kid but we don't have time to explain anything."

He grabbed Isaac's arm and dragged him down the street and around the corner, then behind a business that was closed for remodeling and didn't stop until they came out on the street across the block from there. Then they began walking normally again. Stiles held up his slowly, slowly burning herbs and walked with his eyes closed, doing what Deaton had called 'envisioning all the negative energy leaving the neighborhood.' Isaac kept a hand on his shoulder to guide him to the left or right. It was exactly as it had been before they heard the kid scream.

It was weird.

"Aren't you gonna ask?" Isaac muttered after five minutes of silent walking. Stiles made a curious sound but didn't open his eyes or stop walking. "About my dad?"

"Dude. I know about your dad. I totally understand," Stiles said, peeking one eye open to look at him. He frowned. "If it were my parents? I'm not sure I'd do any better, and they're the best. You don't have to justify yourself."

Isaac let out a pleased noise as Stiles closed his eyes and continued 'envisioning.' "That's very nice of you."

Considering Stiles liked to order him around like he was the alpha and Isaac was his beta, that Stiles snapped his fingers at Isaac like one would a dog, that Stiles was sassier and more sarcastic even than Derek had been while training them, the kindness was a welcome surprise.

"Well I can't be mean all the time," Stiles noted. "I have to recharge at some point."

Isaac snorted. The fear he'd felt in his father's presence and the anxiety from afterward was already fading away. As aggravating as Stiles could be, he also tended to know what to say or do to make the betas feel and react like they needed to. Even before they were packmates Isaac had known this, had deferred to a mere human's leadership and orders.

Perhaps this was where he had been meant to be from the beginning. Perhaps his instincts had known where Isaac should place his loyalties before his mind or heart did.

"Besides, no one picks on the family dog. Not even the dog's dad. Now, to the right. We've covered this area in as much sage smoke as it can handle and we gotta get to Lydia's soon."

Isaac sighed and forced himself not to let his nails become claws and cut Stiles' arm. "Recharge complete," he muttered. Standing so close, Stiles heard him anyway and grinned like he'd won a prize.

…

…

The front door to Lydia's house wasn't locked when Stiles tried the knob. He was expecting that. What he wasn't expecting was to walk in at 5:30 on Halloween and see that not one decoration had been put up for the famous Lydia Halloween Party.

"Hey, where's the party?" he asked as he entered the living room, Isaac right behind him.

Scott, Allison, Danny, Ethan, Aiden, Derek, and Lydia were already gathered in the room. Briefly, Stiles wondered where Cora had run off too, but then his chest spun and zeroed in on her presence outside of town. The Hale House.

Well at least someone was enjoying the idea of running into their dead family. Isaac and Allison had had their fun already. Spoiler alert: it wasn't very fun, actually. Like, at all. Scott didn't have a dead parent, neither did Danny, and the twins had no family in the area period. Stiles would like to avoid his turn if it was all the same to the ghosts.

"There's no party if we can't send these ghosts away," Lydia noted with a pompous air. "Lucky for you, I don't think this will take long. If you did your job?"

Isaac snorted. "Did our job? I think we over did it. We walked all the way around the town and down practically every main street we could find. Stiles burned so much sage that someone could eat the town for Christmas dinner. He even specially coated his own house and Scott's. I had to wait for him on the corner each time because the smell was so strong."

Danny leaned forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. "Don't you think that's maybe…too much?"

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I figured more was better than less," he said, even though that stupid poem from Rudyard Kipling was echoing in his head.

_Wash daily from nose tip to tail tip; drink deeply, but never too deep…_

"Well I hope you left enough of the town open for the ghosts to get out," Aiden noted blandly.

Stiles frowned at him. "Duh. I'm not an idiot." Though he had almost forgotten to leave the main road north clear of smoke, he hadn't so it didn't matter.

Maybe he _was_ doing too much. Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe he was forcing things too far because he didn't want to see-

"Stop," Scott ordered with a raised hand. "We need to get started before someone gets hurt out there while we aren't there to stop it."

"It's not like we could do much but distract the ghosts or get the people away from them anyway," Ethan muttered. Scott heard it clearly, even Stiles heard it across the room, and narrowed his eyes at his fellow alpha. Ethan looked rebuked without Scott having to say a word.

Isaac moved away from Stiles and plopped down on the arm of the couch next to Allison's seat. He smiled at her before turning his attention to Lydia. "So how is this gonna work anyway?"

Lydia was standing in the middle of the room, the pack gathered on her furniture around her or simply standing somewhere in the room. There were no herbs or crystals or animals in the room, no sigils or wards drawn on the floor or the walls or the roof. Lydia and Danny had been researching how to expel ghosts all throughout the school day and the best they could come up with was for Lydia to will all the ghosts into the house with them and then have her forcefully tell them to go away. Stiles, meanwhile, had purified the town, in essence kicking the ghosts out of every side street and back alley until all the ghosts could do was either move to the other side once more or flee out of town by the main road north.

Stiles genuinely hoped it was so easy to make them go away.

"You're going to stand by the walls so there's room and no one gets surrounded. Then I'm going to see if I can…summon the ghosts," Lydia said, her voice starting strong but ending much weaker.

Everyone moved until their backs were touching a wall, leaving Lydia alone in the middle of the room. Stiles backed up until he hit the small of his back on the doorway between the living room and the front foyer and then needed to shift to the side to have himself flat against a wall, so there was a slight pain in between his shoulder blades. He blamed being human, and ignored the fact that neither Danny nor Allison had hurt themselves finding a safe spot to stand.

Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For a few moments, nothing happened. As far as Stiles could tell, whatever Lydia was trying wasn't working. He remembered how much sage he'd burned and wondered, again, if he'd burned too much. Had he covered Lydia's house? Could the ghosts not get to them? Had he ruined everything?

And then the room was full to bursting with ghosts.

They took up every spare inch, some of them fading into each other in order to fit. Stiles jumped when he realized that even the foyer was full of ghosts next to him. Isaac audibly gasped, as did Danny and Scott. Other than that, everyone stayed quiet, as if the ghosts wouldn't notice them unless they talked or moved.

Paige was across the room from Derek, her eyes roving from Lydia to him and back again, like she was having trouble focusing. Victoria Argent was almost within arm's reach of Lydia and as still as the majority of the spirits in the room. Stiles must have actually sent Mr. Lahey away, however, because his ghost had not appeared with the others.

While running his eyes over the ghosts that were practically behind him in the foyer, Stiles lost sight of the rest of the room.

Claudia Stilinski looked as beautiful as she ever had, even standing there in a hospital gown with all the gentle waves pulled straight from her dark brown hair in illness. Stiles' heartbeat sky rocketed and he didn't even think about the numerous werewolves in the room with him. Almost every other ghost was looking at Lydia, but Claudia was looking directly at Stiles.

Lydia was saying something. It was probably important, but Stiles couldn't hear her over the rushing in his ears.

His mom was here. His mom was staring at him. Allison's mom had attacked Scott and forsaken Allison and her dad. Isaac's dad had attacked him and others and blamed Isaac for his death. Every ghost they'd encountered, other than Paige, had been angry and violent.

"Mom," Stiles let out in a broken breath.

She gave him a sad smile and held out her hand. Stiles went to her without a thought. Whether she was going to attack him or not, he had to go. He passed through other ghosts but didn't feel a thing. They didn't react to him, too busy listening to Lydia or simply not caring, he didn't know. No one tried to stop him.

When he reached her, Claudia lifted her hand and ran her ghostly fingers through his hair. His hair didn't actually move, but the motion made a lump form in Stiles' throat. Then she stepped closer, until there was no space between them, and wrapped her arms around him.

And Stiles felt it.

"You've done so well," Claudia whispered in his ear. "Thank you for taking care of him, of your father. For taking care of everyone. I'm sorry I made that your responsibility by leaving. I'm so proud of you, Stiles."

Stiles' eyes scrunched up and he did nothing to stop the tears as he returned the hug, holding tight to a person who he shouldn't even be able to touch at all.

"I'm sorry I let you die," he croaked out just as quietly.

Claudia made a shh sound. "There was nothing to do to save me."

She seemed to shiver and then began to pull away. As much as Stiles wanted to keep her there, he let her go. Claudia only waited until she could make eye contact with her son before speaking again.

"Don't work too hard," she said, still whispering. Then there came a glint in her eyes, like she knew a joke, and she said, "Remember the night is for hunting and forget not the day is for sleep. I love you, son."

Before Stiles could react to her reciting that freakish Rudyard Kipling poem at him, from the same stanza he'd been thinking on before, she was gone. She fizzled away like Mr. Lahey had. All the other ghosts had vanished as well. The Martin house, and all of Beacon Hills, was phantom free. Stiles gripped his hands into fists and took a deep breath.

He'd been so frightened of seeing his mother's ghost, of having her blame him for her death or shame him for his life since she died. Everyone knew Stiles was far from perfect. He was a little shit most of the time, actually. But his mother…His mom was proud of him.

He was still quietly crying until a hand landed on his shoulder and shocked them away. Stiles turned around to find Derek behind him, looking as concerned as Stiles had ever seen him. Looking about the room for a moment showed that the others were starting to decorate for Lydia's party and studiously avoiding looking at him or anywhere near him.

It was obvious they'd all heard and seen everything.

Returning his eyes to Derek, Stiles took another, steadying deep breath and nodded. He'd be alright. He'd been crying out of relief, not sadness, so everything would be okay. His mother knowing about the poem was like Paige knowing about Derek – understanding after death. She wasn't proud of him or loving him only for who she'd known him to be as a child. She loved him now, as he was, with all that had happened and all that he'd done. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Before he could rethink it or Derek could move away, Stiles stepped forward and gave the larger man a brief but heartfelt hug. A sort of thank you for showing he cared without making Stiles feel awkward. Derek looked wrong footed when Stiles pulled back, which made the human giggle.

Then Stiles pat Derek on the shoulder and moved to help the others decorate. There was going to be a party soon and no party was complete without an overabundance of cheap decorations.

…

…

It was amazing what nine people could accomplish in one hour. Lydia's party started at seven o'clock on the dot and none of the guests would ever have been able to tell the house wasn't decorated at six because it was full of literal ghosts.

There was music blasting in the living room that echoed throughout the house. Food and drink were abundant, a spooky atmosphere pervaded everywhere with mood lighting, fake webs and spiders, realistic blood splatter, fog, dark rooms, pictures of people that seemed to follow you with their eyes as you moved around the room, and other decorations Lydia had managed to either find or create while also dealing with the actual supernatural events of the past two days.

While sufficiently creepy for the everyday Beaconite, Allison found it more relaxing than freaky after witnessing actual ghosts, werewolves, fairies, bledan, and kanimas. Not to mention plain old murderers. Forget TV dramas, Allison was becoming desensitized due to her own life experiences.

She sipped at her punch – thankfully wolfsbane free this time – and looked around the room at all the people who had accepted Lydia's party invitation. Most of their school seemed crowded into the house, along with several graduates, though Allison knew that to be impossible.

Danny and Ethan were in the middle of the room, dancing with a bunch of people from the school orchestra that were friends of Danny's. Though, to be honest, neither of them seemed aware of anyone else around them. Their entire focus was on each other. Allison gave it thirty minutes, tops, before they found somewhere to get a little more intimate. She hoped, for their sakes, that they didn't use Lydia's bedroom.

At the entrance to the living room, wearing his leather jacket with slicked back hair, stood Isaac. It was an attempt at a last minute costume – a greaser, he said. To Allison's surprise, he was having a conversation with Greenberg. Greenberg was dressed as The Creature from the Black Lagoon, but with his mask in his hand rather than on his face. Allison couldn't hear anything over the music, but whatever conversation they were having must have been rather intense. Isaac's eyebrows were drawn down low over his face but he wasn't angry, and Greenberg's mouth was moving quickly while his hands waved around – almost smacking another party guest in the face with his mask. When Greenberg stopped talking to breathe, Isaac jumped in, talking slower but with no less conviction.

That was a conversation she'd like to hear about sometime. What could the infamous Greenberg have to say that had ensnared Isaac?

Stiles was on the far couch, a red cup of punch in his hands as well. He was surrounded by ladies in their twenties and thirties it seemed. A closer look revealed them to be the drag queens that had come to Lydia's last party as well. One was running her hands through Stiles' hair while another appeared to be cooing at him. A third was tutting at his plaid shirt – probably complaining that he wasn't in costume like everyone else. Two more were also hovering around, and at least one was probably drinking actual alcohol instead of the punch if their flushed faces were anything to go by. Allison just hoped they weren't sharing with Stiles.

At least he appeared to be having a good time with them.

Allison then saw Derek and Cora leaning against a wall at the edge of the crowd. Their arms were crossed in twin pictures of disinterest and discomfort, but neither made a move to leave the room. In fact, Derek kept staring across the room at Stiles with a look that, on anyone else, Allison would've called jealousy.

Wait. Forget 'anyone else.' Derek was definitely jealous.

" _You don't have to be afraid. You've got someone who won't hurt you. Someone who will support you and make you want to be better more than I ever could. Someone who reminds you that, werewolf or not, you're still human."_

Paige's words came back to her and Allison narrowed her eyes at her punch. Is this what Paige had been referring to? Did Derek like Stiles or was he just jealous that Stiles had more friends than him? Or did he not approve of the drag queens?

Did Stiles like him back?

Now that she'd asked it, Allison had to answer herself as well. She didn't know about when they first met, or most of their interactions with Derek before she found out that Scott was a werewolf. She knew they'd gotten Derek arrested once, and had blamed him for what happened that night at the school – though it had actually been Peter. But she also knew that he'd saved Derek's life on more than one occasion, and that Stiles had been the only one to mention Derek regularly since the Hale siblings left Beacon Hills. The one time she'd seen his phone, the most recent text messages had all been either from Scott or Derek, so they must have been communicating regularly.

It was possible. In fact, if Paige was to believed about her ghostly awareness, and if Derek did like Stiles, then it stood to reason that Stiles had to like Derek back. She'd said he already had someone who liked him. She'd said this one would work out where all his other relationships had failed. Or, she hadn't said it, but she'd implied it.

The song blaring from the speakers near her changed, knocking Allison from her spiraling thoughts. She shook her head. It wasn't her place to be wondering about Derek's love life. Or Stiles'. If they liked each other and Paige was right, then it'd work out. If not, that was fine too. Allison had no part in it.

She kept her eyes away from both boys as she finished her roaming observation of the room. This time her eyes found Lydia and Aiden sitting on the loveseat that had been shoved against a wall, and wasn't that a couple she didn't understand. Sometimes Lydia seemed completely enamored of Aiden, and vice versa, and sometimes they appeared utterly ambivalent toward each other.

But again, it wasn't her relationship. If Lydia asked for help or for an opinion, then Allison would get involved, but not before then.

Aiden got up and headed into the crowd toward Ethan, probably to stop him from dry humping Danny in the middle of the dance floor. Allison took advantage of the open seat and hurried to drop down next to her best friend.

"Nice party," she commented when Lydia looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Too bad we didn't get costumes."

Lydia snorted. "Trust me, a costume is the last thing I want. When I yell at someone for almost breaking the coffee table, I want them to know who I am and see how serious I am about lighting them on fire."

Allison laughed heartily. "I bet you would."

Lydia only maintained her self-confident grin for a few seconds before a frown took over. She rubbed her hands together and glanced around the room, almost as if she were nervous. The party was going great though, so what was she nervous about?

Allison resisted the urge to smack herself in the head.

"You did a great job today," she began casually, or as casually as she could while talking loudly to be heard over the music. "You used your gifts perfectly. I've seen movies where psychics work with ghosts and never heard anyone explain death and tell the ghosts to move on as succinctly and confidently as you did earlier."

Lydia slowly moved her eyes to lock with Allison's. "All I did was tell them the truth and then order them to leave."

A nod. "True. But it worked. I could see some of them realize they were in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing. And when you told them what to do, they did it. Even," she took a small breath. "Even Stiles' mom stopped and obeyed when you told them to leave. I don't think any of the rest of us could have done it and had it be so successful."

A grateful smile grew on Lydia's lips and she gave a laugh. "Probably not," she agreed. Her voice shook as she continued. "It would have been anarchy if any of the wolves had tried that. They don't think things through all the time."

Out of the corner of her eye, Allison saw Scott enter the room. He paused to talk to Isaac and Greenberg for a moment before continuing into the crowd of dancers toward Stiles. Lydia noticed him too and her smile turned teasing.

"Go. Take care of Scott," she ordered lightly.

Allison frowned in confusion. "Take care of him?"

Lydia gave a single laugh. "Oh please. Admit it. That boy may be an alpha, but he is completely lost without you."

Well, Allison couldn't argue with that. But then again, she was a bit lost without him too.

Lydia's gift ensured she saw the worst of things. Death surrounded her. But being able to use it to help had been good for her. Allison could see that. Lydia was a proud individual and wouldn't admit to it, but having others support her also helped. Allison was grateful to her for all she'd done to make Beacon Hills safe again. She was glad that the ghost of her mother wasn't walking around hurting innocents anymore, hurting Scott. Allison only hoped that Lydia understood that.

She stayed on the loveseat long enough to give Lydia a tight hug, and received one just as tight in return. Then she downed the last of her punch, set the cup aside, and moved to join Scott and enjoy the party.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Next Time: Skin Deep**  
>  Deaton has bad news about the new creatures in town: they look like your friends and family. A creature is stealing the faces of members of the pack and making the originals disappear. The closer the pack gets to catching the beast, the more it changes its face. The only way to stop it is to kill it, but how do you kill a creature that has the face of your best friend? Lover? Son?


End file.
